


The Collapse of Pride

by friendsdontletfriendsdrunktext



Category: The Cask of Amontillado - Edgar Allan Poe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Redemption maybe?, Montresor isn't at fault?, Opposite point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendsdontletfriendsdrunktext/pseuds/friendsdontletfriendsdrunktext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Montresor may be crazy. But as Montresor is crazy, Fortunato is Proud. This follows the Cask of Amontillado, but from the opposite perspective. (First post on this site criticism appreciated as long as it's constructive.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Collapse of Pride

            I should have known he was mad. If I had followed my instincts then I would have had a chance of escaping this forsaken prison. I sneered at the four walls that surrounded me. The shackles that bound me shook as I looked around. Alas, you probably do not understand what I am referencing so let us go back to the beginning, while I am still able.

            It was about dusk, during the intrigue and general havoc that comes along with the Carnival every year. My friend, as well as fellow wine connoisseur, Montresor, came to me and I walked towards him with my hat jingling pleasant tunes as I walked towards my esteemed companion. He spoke to me, as the sun slowly sank below the sea,

            “My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today! But I have received a pipe of what passes for amontillado, and I have my doubts.” Amontillado, for those who have no comprehension of wine, was an almost celestial wine with hints of the most magnanimous parts of earth, it is rarely found during normal days and yet this man found it, during Carnival no less! Surely there must be something wrong with this pipe. I enunciated my thoughts to Montresor,

            “How? Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!” Montresor repeated to me slowly enunciating his words to emphasize his point,

            “I have my doubts,” he continued, “and I was silly enough to pay the full amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain.” I said stunned,

            “Amontillado!” He responded obstinately,

            “I have my doubts.”

            “Amontillado!” I replied just as tenaciously.

            “I must satisfy them.” He said this in a very methodical manner. His eyes betrayed him as I noticed a glint in his eyes at that time seemed of merriment. But rather it was a sharp emotion, similar to that of a wolf struck by bloodlust. I continued pig-headedly,

            “Amontillado!” Montresor sighed as if he gave up. I know differently now. Then, he flippantly remarked,

            “As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi.” This stirred a white-hot rage within me. Why would he even mention that irredeemable fool when he knows I am obviously a much more skilled wine connoisseur than he? Montresor continued, “If anyone has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me—” I spoke ferociously, my honor infringed upon,

            “Luchesi cannot tell amontillado from sherry.” Montresor laughed,

            “And some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own!” I snarled in anger motioning for Montresor to follow,

            “Come, let us go.” He looked confused yet he also looked joyful,

            “Whither?” I spoke icily confronted by my pride to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one could even dream of comparing my God given palate to Luchesi, devil take him,

            “To your vaults.” Montresor was taken aback, however he spoke with a hint of merriment that surprised me,

            “My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchesi—” I spoke quickly irritated by all this talk of Luchesi,

            “I have no engagement, come.” He eloquently attempted to stop me,

            “My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with niter.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance as my pride as an incomparable wine connoisseur was being attacked and yet all his measly mind could comprehend was a little cough I have had for the past week. I was practically healed, God bless.

            “Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish sherry from amontillado.” I stole his arm and put on a mask composed of black silk and I drew my thick luxurious roquelaure about me I forced him to hurry to his palazzo.

            When I entered the mansion I was astonished that none of the servants were attending to the house; however, it was Carnival so I suppose as soon as Montresor had his back turned the servants all went to their families. Montresor handed me a sconce with a flambeaux. I suppose he is not wealthy enough to have candles made of wax. Soon enough we were at the entrance to the vaults and we started to descend down into the vaults.

            Ah, the air is getting low. I must hurry on with my story.

            I asked him while he eyed me warily,

            “The pipe?” He replied softly,

            “It is farther on.” I nodded my head as he added, “But observe the white web-work which gleams form these cavern walls.” I looked around at the white web works and I could almost envision little skeletons dancing on the walls. I turned towards him my vision starting to get foggy from the amount of the wine I had consumed earlier in the Carnival. Eventually my mind cleared a little to ask him the question I had been searching for,

            “Niter?” He replied assuredly,

            “Niter.” He asked me trying to make petty conversation, “How long have you had that cough?” As soon as he spoke the cough, subsiding in my throat came out of hiding and I could not reply for several minutes. I replied to my friend,

            “It is nothing.” Montresor argued,

 “Come, we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy as I once was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill and I cannot be responsible. Besides there is Luchesi—” At the time I wished I had noticed and heeded Montresor’s words. My damn pride was what ended with me telling this tale to Death. I was too proud to notice the suffering of others. Maybe if I had...

            “Enough,” I reprimanded; “the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.” He slightly laughed and spoke as if it was a large joke,

            “True—true, and indeed I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily but you should use all proper caution. A draft of this Médoc will defend us from the damps.” I agreed but all the same leered at the wine then toasted before I tasted it,

            “I drink to the buried that repose around us.” He then responded,

            “And I to your long life.” At the time I considered what an odd thing it was to toast, considering the dead that surrounded us. If I was a much better student in the realm of irony, now I would bark in laughter. At the moment, I took a long swig of the wine; I had to agree it was quite delectable; however, I had tasted better. I took one final long swig then we went down deeper into the hellish catacombs that would prove to be my eternal prison.

            I looked around at the four walls that surrounded me. They were still the same as ever. I began to consider that instead of Montresor being the cause of my death, it was my capricious pride and inattention to detail. As I was pondering what I could have done to avoid the situation the torch that he had left in my room, started to flicker. The last thing I heard was the jingling of bells, before l, in similar manner to the flame, flickered out.

 

 

 

**Well hope you enjoyed this relatively dark story!**


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